Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(54)

—her investigation had gone al of nowhere. Most of the events in the files were ones where I’d been present, and my firsthand experience was much more informative than her abbreviated write-ups. If she’d heard back from the ABMU about the spel s in the feet or the disk, she hadn’t included that information in her report. The only exhaustive record she kept was a list of fae who’d been questioned and relocated to Faerie, and that was a big, long list.

After flipping the last page, I shoved the file away in disgust and polished off the last of my fries. “Hey, agent in charge, I think your subordinate could stand to brush up on, wel , everything.”

“She gets her job done,” he said, which didn’t quite count as disagreeing with me, but he focused on his hamburger, obviously not wil ing to discuss the matter further.

As we finished lunch, John’s ringtone—the theme song from Cops—cut through the air. I dug in my purse and grabbed the phone as the song started its second repetition.

“John, did you get my message?” I asked by way of greeting.

“Good afternoon to you too, Alex,” he said, his deep voice ful of amusement. “I did get your message. I also heard some water-cooler gossip that you might have had some trouble this morning. Everything okay?”

I gave him the summarized version of the morning’s predawn events, then asked him the question no one seemed to be able to answer. “Has the ABMU turned up any leads on the spel s in the feet or the disks?”

“Definitely not on my case, but if you’re correct about the caster responsible for the feet being the same as the one caster responsible for the feet being the same as the one who sent the construct, I can probably make a case to get a copy of the results from the disks. If there are any results, that is. No guarantee, and I’m not saying I’l be able to pass it on to you, but I’l check.”

“I’l owe you one,” I said, and suddenly, sitting in the middle of a fast-food restaurant with John al the way across town, I felt the potential for imbalance grow between us. Damn. It’s going to take time to get used to that.

“Yeah, wel , I’m inclined to tel you to let the police handle this, but with the attacks targeting you, and with Hol y caught up in the middle of it, I know you won’t. Have you tried contacting Dr. Aaron Corrie?”

The name sounded familiar, but it took me a moment to remember why. “He was one of the founding members of the Organization for Magical y Inclined Humans, wasn’t he?”

I’d had to write a paper on him in academy. As wel as being one of the founders of OMIH, he was from a family that had been practicing magic generations before the Awakening and reputedly had one of the largest col ections of ancient grimoires in the world.

“Yeah, but did you know he was local?” John asked. “He consults for the police on occasion, and he likes puzzles, so he might help you for a modest fee. I’l give you the address.”

Now I real y did owe him, though I didn’t say as much—I seriously disliked the feeling of debt racking up around me.

I jotted the address John gave me on a napkin and shoved it in my purse.

“So, back to the message you left me,” John said. “What makes you think you’l be able to raise a shade now when you couldn’t before?”

“I’l bring another grave witch. I’m not promising it wil work, but between the two of us, we might be able to pul a shade out of one of the feet. Can you get us access?”

The line was silent for a long moment, and I could imagine John tugging his mustache as he considered the imagine John tugging his mustache as he considered the obstacles ahead. “Wel , technical y you were already hired to consult on the case, so I guess there wouldn’t be much need to file additional paperwork.” In other words, if I performed another ritual, the higher-ups, and presumably the FIBs, wouldn’t know about it. “But I couldn’t pay you for your time.”

Yeah, definitely off the books. “Don’t worry about that, John. The department is already paying me for my time in the floodplain. Think of this as tying up loose ends.”

Besides, at this point, I was being paid to investigate by Malik—at least in a roundabout way—and it would have been sleazy to bil two different clients for one ritual.

The sound of papers fluttering on the other end of the line filtered over the phone and John said, “While we haven’t gotten any magical results yet, the DNA profile on the first three feet we found came in. Nothing. Not a single match.

I’m stil waiting on results for the second batch. I’m grasping at straws in this case.” There was a muffled sound of something hitting the mic on the phone, and I knew John had rubbed his hand over his face, his knuckles scraping the mouthpiece.

“Okay,” he said at last. “What could it hurt? Besides the FIB’s egos if NCPD finds the kil er first. Maybe your ritual wil be the case-breaker. How does tomorrow evening, about six thirty, sound? Those FIB suits never stay around here that late.”

I agreed to the time and wrapped up the cal . Then I looked at Falin, who’d been listening avidly to my side of the conversation.

“Come on,” I said, shouldering my purse. “We have to see a witch about a rune.”

“This is the one?” Falin asked as he stared up at the large brick wal topped with ornate fleur-de-lis.